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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469257">Know Thy Shape</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve'>reserve</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feral Tenderness, M/M, Post-Carnivale, Pregnancy Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:21:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James felt the least chilled he had in months.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Know Thy Shape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/icicaille/gifts">icicaille</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have a final exam in like 25 minutes; I had to exorcize this horny demon of a ficlet so I can focus. I’m sorry it’s your problem now.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even a captain’s berth was small on a naval ship, but James Fitzjames could not say he minded, not when the lack of space meant he was pressed up against Francis from shoulder to rear, his back warmed by the broad, furred chest behind him. </p><p>The air was humid: from their bodies, from their breath. James felt the least chilled he had in months. </p><p>“I would wed you, bed you, and keep you,” Francis said against his ear. His mouth was hot, his voice a rasp that sent a shiver down James’ spine despite the heat they’d made. He ran a proprietary hand over James’ naked bicep, his forearm, all the way to his hip, charting a course to rest it there. </p><p>Each finger felt like a mark; a brand that said “see here? This is mine.” </p><p>“Seems you’ve gotten the order wrong,” James replied, unable to keep himself from teasing even as the words made his heart quicken. “You’ve already succeeded in the bedding.” </p><p>“Well,” said Francis, and James could feel his teeth when he smiled. “We’d send you to someone. Someone who could fix your maidenhead and make you ripe for me again.” </p><p>“The mouth on you,” James murmured, aghast, but his stomach dipped at the notion. Of being fresh. Being made <em> whole </em> for someone. Being remade for <em> Francis. </em></p><p>“I’d be very gentle with you,” Francis went on. “You wouldn’t know anything of the world and I’d introduce you to it slowly, kiss you so you felt safe, fondle you until you were good and ready for me, until you were begging me to take you and let you be rid of the thing.” </p><p>“Would you have me on my back?” </p><p>“Aye, so I could see your lovely face. Watch your mouth open when I breached you.” Francis mouthed beneath his ear, and somehow his voice got even lower when he said, “touch your cunt where we were joined, and know the shape it took with me inside you.” </p><p>James gasped, imagining it: Francis with a finger in him, or two, alongside his prick, or just skirting his entrance. Knowing him. </p><p>“You are.” He steadied himself. “You are not an unfortunate man. You would have to give it to me slowly. Bit by bit, so I wouldn’t cry out, so I’d feel no pain.” </p><p>“By all means,” Francis agreed. “But by the time I was feeding you my prick you’d be so far gone with want you could withstand the hurt. You’d ask for it. You’d <em> weep </em> for me to take you. And then I’d fuck you—” he swore with such relish—“and you’d weep for me to take you deeper still.” </p><p>“<em>Christ</em>.” </p><p>“You know the map of it,” Francis said, and rolled his hips to punctuate his words. He was at full mast again; the hard length of him pressed to James’ crease: a perfect threat, a promise. “Virginal though you are, you know it requires <em>finesse</em>.”</p><p>“I—” remember<em>, </em>he wanted to say, but was loath to shift away from the delicious dream of having Francis be his very first, on their wedding bed. “I can only imagine.” </p><p>“You needn’t rely on your imagination much longer. As soon as we’re home, I’ll make you my wife. Would you like that?” </p><p>“Francis,” James sighed, because he did and because something about the idea hurt, as much as he wanted it. “I would.” </p><p>“And—“ </p><p>“There’s more?” </p><p>“You know how women are.” Francis’ hand shifted to his belly and stayed there, palm flat against the line of hair that led to his cock. “When they're in a delicate way. Once the third month comes to pass.” </p><p>“And you do?” </p><p>“Nine older sisters and a boy learns things whether he wants to or not—hush now.” </p><p>“You have a filthy, incapacitated mind, Captain Crozier,” James said, arc and interested. </p><p>“Women are desperate when they’re caught. Insatiable.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“And I’d keep you fed, lass. Nothing but comfort until you held a wailing babe in your arms, and then more comfort still.” </p><p>“What more could one ask for,” James snorted, “than a hot meal?” </p><p>“Not like that.” Francis nipped at his shoulder and stroked the hand on his belly down toward his prick. He pinched James’ foreskin lightly between thumb and forefinger and pulled it over the wet tip of him as James watched. “I’d feast on this little cunt until you pushed me away,” Francis rasped. “But you’d be so full with child you’d have to just lay there and let me sooth you, your hot, swollen cunny. You’d be slick for me all the time; just because you were carrying my pup.” </p><p>“I’m—” James paused, feeling a thrilling pang of guilty pleasure frisson through him. He was fascinated by the way Francis was touching him: frigging him with care so that his cockhead glistened and the early leavings of his arousal gathered in the sheath. </p><p>“I’m slick for you now,” he said. “Why wait? Do it, Francis. Bring some life into this frigid place.” </p><p>“You’d be a fallen woman.” </p><p>“No one would need to know.” </p><p>“Indeed,” said Francis, pushing him gently onto his back. “You’d keep our secret.” </p><p>“I would.” <em> I do. </em>“Keep your word, then,” Jame said, letting Francis shift over his body and push his legs apart. “And take us home so we can…” </p><p>“Marry,” Francis finished for him. He made an obscene picture, with his shirt askew and his hair mussed into disheveled tufts “Nothing else will do.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you also feel haunted by this concept, you might consider inflicting it on others and <a href="https://reserve.tumblr.com/post/624456648221736960/know-thy-shape-reserve-the-terror-tv-2018">reblog this handy post :)</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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